


Hippy Dippy Granola Retreat

by RosieTheRiveter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Military Backstory, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTheRiveter/pseuds/RosieTheRiveter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural AU: After returning from deployment, Sam drags Dean to a wellness center in the Adirondack mountains of NY. There he meets a seemingly out of touch hippy art therapist named Castiel. They couldn't be less alike. Can they find a common ground?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hippy Dippy Granola Retreat

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: The spelling of Lodge as "Loj" is an Adirondack colloquialism. Melville Dewey - founder of the Dewey Decimal System was an educator, a librarian and was one of the founders of the Lake Placid Club in the Adirondack Park. He was also the owner of the Adirondack Loj in the Adirondack Park in New York State. He was also a proponent of Spelling Reform and therefore he named the Adirondack Loj with the phonetic spelling.
> 
>  
> 
> Ft. Drum is an Active Duty Army installation near Watertown in Northern New York. The New York Army National Guard often trains there for yearly training as well as pre-deployment training.
> 
>  
> 
> Lake Placid was the site of the 1932 and 1980 Winter Olympics. The village has a very quaint small-village, Bavarian feel. There are many antique shops, restaurants and many Olympic and Adirondack themed stores.
> 
>  
> 
> The Great Adirondack Steak and Seafood Company and Great Adirondack Brewing Company are real and located in Lake Placid, NY: http://www.adksteakandseafood.com/home.html
> 
>  
> 
> The Adirondack Retreat and Spiritual Wellness Center is a fictional place.

  


“Sammy, I can't believe I let you talk me into going to some hippy dippy granola retreat. I am gonna kill you if all they have to eat is tofu and we have to call each other names like Moon Flower and Summer Rain.”

  


Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother and smirked. “You have put entirely too much thought into those names Dean.”

  


“Sheddap!” Dean scowled as Sam chuckled. "And I'm not sitting around a fire singing Kumbaya or some shit."

  


“C’mon, look – the counselor said you needed – we  both  needed – to do something to de-stress.  I figured this retreat would be the perfect thing.”

  


“We are way too close to Ft. Drum up here.  I suppose a week in Mexico getting drunk on Margaritas and flirting with good looking people in bathing suits didn’t cross your mind?”

  


“Not that I don’t enjoy drinking and debauchery for vacation but that’s not always the healthiest escape. And we are going nowhere near Ft. Drum.” Sam chuckled.  He had no desire to go to Ft. Drum either; they’d spent more than enough time at Pre-Mobilization Training up there the summer prior to deployment. But this was the Adirondack Park and the verdant shades of jade and forest green everywhere, the scent of pine and clear, mountain air was glorious after seeing nothing but sand for a year.

  


“I don’t need an escape.  I’m perfectly happy.” Deaned groused.

  


“Perfectly happy. Right. Sure. Everything with Aaron? Not exactly the homecoming you’d hoped for.”

  


“Look, I don’t need a recap.  I know what happened. And it doesn’t matter - it’s the best thing that could’ve happened.  Aaron and me – we – weren’t going anywhere.” 

  


Sam knew a deflection from his brother when he heard it. He could say it was for the best but Sam knew it hurt him more deeply than he let on - if only because for Dean, it only served as further confirmation that he was unlovable. Though Sam doubted Dean had loved Aaron either.

  


“Even so - if I ever see him around, I’ll kick the crap out of him for doing what he did.  It was shitty and cowardly leaving you when you were on the other side of the world.”

  


“Sam, you know it happens - not only to me.  Stevens found out his wife was screwing around on him and Horvach’s boyfriend ditched her, Durani’s wife left for Massachusetts with the kids.”

  


They both knew there was someone left off that list but they silently agreed not to mention it.

“Jess stuck around though – “ Dean continued, shifting the focus off the topic and his disastrous love-life. “I knew she would – she’s a keeper – you gonna make an honest woman of her?”

  


“I have my eye on a ring.”  Sam hedged.

  


“Yeah? Well, you want my opinion – you better make your move before she realizes she’s way too good for you.”  Dean smirked.

  


“You’re not even remotely funny.” But Sam smiled thinking about the sweet blonde that had made a huge ‘Welcome Home’ sign for both Winchester brothers - proudly displayed when they got off the airplane in Albany.

  


“Me? I’m freaking hilarious.”

  


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

  


When they finally made their way up the long, winding drive through thick green trees that widened up to an open, circular area with a large, log administrative building in the center, Dean had to admit to himself that it was beautiful.  The porch was scattered with traditional Adirondack style chairs and other twig furniture. He just wondered how long it would be until he went stir-crazy - or starved since he had a sneaking suspicion that Sam had dragged him to this place, conveniently dodging the fact that the kitchen was vegetarian.

  


The lobby was circular and had comfortable armchairs and couches in front of a large, stone fireplace. Being the middle of August, it was unlit, but Dean could imagine how cozy it would be on a crisp mountain night.  A long table along one of the walls was set up with an urn and a display of glass jars of loose teas, a basket of tea strainers and large, white mugs, spoons and honey. Dean figured he’d be going into caffeine withdrawal soon and then Sam would bitch about him being cranky. Which was fair.  Dean’s default mode was cranky.

  


“Welcome to The Adirondack Retreat and Spiritual Wellness Center.  I’m Anna, Director and Co-owner.  May I have your names?” Anna was a pretty girl with long red hair. She wore khakis, a green polo shirt with the ARSWC logo on it and a gorgeous smile.    

  


“I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean – we have a reservation for the Birch Loj.” Dean had seen the website and saw that they had a dorm that had several bunkhouses with 8 beds to a room and a shared bath. While it was cheaper, he insisted he was not going to share a dorm after spending a year in shared barracks. This was a vacation, not another deployment, so they had reserved a small private cabin for themselves.

  


“Wonderful!  You’ll love it – it’s my favorite.  There is a pretty little trout stream that runs right past the back porch. You can practically fish from your bed!”

  


“There’s fishing?”  Dean perked up.

  


“Yes of course – this is the Adirondacks after all.” Anna beamed.  “I just need a form of ID from each of you and the credit card your bill will be on.  Your package includes fishing license fees – and if you just sign here, I will get those for you. We have all the equipment in the activities cabin - rod & reel or fly-fishing, whichever you prefer. Plus canoes, kayaks, float tubes.”

  


“Awesome.” Dean perked up at the realization that this wasn’t just some yoga center. “What other activities do you have here?”

  


“Oh all sorts of things! There’s a complete listing in the Welcome Packet here - " Anna handed them a green folder filled with informational flyers and schedules " - but we have hiking of course - we have lots of trails that start out back or if you want to do any of the High Peaks, we have shuttle busses most of the day. Plus a shuttle into Lake Placid if you want to go shopping, see the Olympic sights or try out the restaurants there.  As I said, we have canoeing and kayaking - the info about guides and such are in the packet as well.  We have day-packs for hiking and dry bags for the canoeing if you need them.  We have a yoga cabin and there’s a class schedule in your welcome packet, there’s a meditation pavilion, we have Martial Arts and Tai Chi classes with Master Tran; if you like art there is Color Study and Nature and Landscape painting with Castiel, plus he does a horticultural lecture. Castiel grows most of our produce for our Pine Loj Restaurant right here on the property. And then we have cooking classes with Gabe.”

  


“Uh – yeah about that – is the menu - uh – vegetarian?”

  


“We do have a large selection of vegetarian and vegan meals but it’s not a strictly vegetarian menu – I hope that’s not a problem?” Anna looked concerned that they would bolt at the thought that there were dead animals on the menu.

  


“Nope.” Dean smiled in relief. “Not a problem at all.”

  


“Well – if you want to try some of the more exotic items, we have a bison pot-roast and a Moose Burger.”

  


“Moose-burger?!?” Dean guffawed. “Oh – I’m definitely trying that!” Sam looked sour at the mention of his hated nickname.

  


“OK so, you are all checked in. Garth can show you to your cabin.” Anna indicated a slight-build young man with a goofy grin off to the side. “Garth? These gentlemen are going to the Birch Loj.”

  


“Right this way.” Garth made a grand gesture.

  


The Birch Loj was grandly named but it wasn’t much more than a small cabin - a bedroom with two twin beds, a small living area with a little fireplace and a bathroom.  But it was scrupulously clean; the sheets were crisp and white, the bathroom sparkling.  

Dean tossed his duffel on the sofa alongside Sam’s and went to the back porch of the cabin. Sure enough – there was a pretty trout stream that reflected the setting sun through the leaves.

  


"OK Sam - I gotta admit so far, this seems like a pretty cool place. Not as Hippy Dippy as I thought it would be."

  


"I can call you Moon Flower if you'd like."

  


"Oh you're a regular laugh riot Sammy. You should work the Crystal Room in Atlantic City."

  


"I'm here all week - try the Moose Burger!"

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean wondered how Sam had talked him into an art class - the list of classes was full of hippy sounding crap like “The Palette, Nature and You" and "Art of the Soul". Sam had signed them up for “Explore Your Emotional Past Through Color”. If that didn’t sound like an hour and a half of torture he didn’t know what did.  

  


They entered the Arts cabin, which smelled of paint and incense; easels were placed at evenly spaced intervals in a semi circle. Dean and Sam took two empty easels together and next to an easel already taken by a mousy haired girl in khakis and a sweater in an odd shade of pink whose eyes lit up as they roamed over Sam.  

  


“Hi!  I’m Becky! Becky Rosen! Isn’t this place great!? It’s so relaxing! What’s your name?”

  


Sam was a bit taken aback at the intensity of this young woman but his innate sense of politeness took over.  “Uh, Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean.”

  


“Hi Sam.” She gave Sam a predatory smile and ignored Dean.

  


Sam smiled back uncomfortably.

  


The other spots filled up gradually and just as Dean decided he was going to tell Sam he was leaving, the instructor entered the room.  He was barefoot, wore rumpled linen pants and tunic and a string of Puka shells around his neck.  When he turned to face the class, Dean saw that he had dark hair that looked like he just rolled out of bed and eyes the color of deep blue he’d never seen before. He wore a smile that looked like he knew something they didn’t.

  


“Good afternoon everyone. My name is Castiel Novak and this painting class is ‘Explore Your Emotional Past Through Color’.  Which means that today we will be exploring the connection of color in art to our psyches and how it links to our emotional past. Often color speaks to us; this is why we have favorite colors; why some colors turn us off. We will attempt to soothe the inner turmoil of your mind and feel the spirit of nature moving around you. “

  


Dean rolled his eyes. “Is this guy for real?” Dean spoke louder than he’d intended.

  


Castiel padded past Dean. “I can assure you that I am as real as you are. But then again, reality is subjective.”  He gave Dean a snarky smile.

  


“Now - this class is just to get you comfortable with putting paint on the canvas, in getting in touch with your inner eye and tactile connection to the brush, the paint, the canvas. You will be producing an abstract piece today rather than a landscape or still life.”

  


Castiel went over how to load a brush with color, different brush stroke techniques and how to clean the brushes when going from one color to the next so as not to muddy the colors. "But don't let your creativity be restrained by worrying about technique or rules - there is no wrong in art. 

  


In front of you, you have an easel and canvas, a selection of brushes and you have a palette of colors - what I would like for you to do is pick a brush, any brush…” Castiel waited for everyone to select a brush. “…. and contemplate your palette. Which color catches your eye? Which color does your brush want to choose? What does your brush say to you?”

  


“My brush says this is ridiculous.” Dean muttered.

  


Castiel caught Dean’s eye, narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. He looked irritated. Dean felt like he was looking through him. Dean reddened and looked back at his palette, mouth clamped shut.

  


“Dean – cut it out.” Sam whispered to his brother.

  


Castiel continued “Now, I want you to select that color which speaks to you, load your brush and I want you to make 3 lines on the canvas. There is no right or wrong here – you can make them bold or soft, long or short, in any direction or location, they can curve or angle if you wish.”

  


Dean hastily loaded his brush with a deep blue and peered around him at the rest of the class. Becky had made 3 diagonal lines of green. Sam had made 3 waving lines of yellow.

For some reason, Dean was paralyzed as to what he wanted to do. He just needed to paint 3 lines. It should be simple. But he couldn’t bring himself to put paint on the pristine canvas, he felt as if he was going to mess up no matter what he did. He just held the brush and stared.  The longer he stared, the more anxiety welled up.

  


Dean vaguely registered Castiel walking from student to student, asking questions and giving approval.

  


“Once you have completed your three lines, clean your brush and gather another color of your choosing and make 3 additional lines…”

  


“What’s your name?” Dean flinched as Castiel’s voice murmured near his side.

  


“Uh – Dean. Winchester.”

  


“Hello, Dean.”  Dean looked at him and saw he was peering at him in that odd way again.  “If you don’t wish to be here…”  Castiel's voice was low and soothing.

  


“No! I – I do. I’m sorry. I’m just – having trouble getting started.”

  


Cas tilted his head again, eyes narrowed, the slightest of smiles on his face.  “It’s alright if you are unable to put paint on the canvas.  Sometimes what we aren’t able to paint is as important as what we are able to. Perhaps that wasn’t the color that really spoke to you. But you selected the blue to avoid another color?”

  


Dean swallowed nervously. The guy had nailed it. Dean put down the brush and picked up a clean one, loaded it with a brilliant orangey-red and streaked 3 angry slashes across the canvas.

  


Castiel nodded, a small, knowing smile on his lips, then moved away while launching into a discussion of negative space within the composition of a painting.   

  


After about an hour, Dean had filled the canvas with not only the streaks of orangey-red but yellows, dark violet, blood red and the blue that he had originally selected. Becky had spent most of the class making cow eyes at Sam who was pointedly ignoring her and filling his canvas with happy yellows, greens, blues and bright pink. Dean silently chuckled at the thought that Sam was doing a poor job of representing the straight half of the Winchester family.

  


At the end of the class, Castiel thanked them for their hard work and instructed them to set their paintings on a side shelf to dry so they could come back later and retrieve them.  

When Sam went to leave, Dean hung back. “What are you doing Dean?”

  


Dean blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh – I just – I want to apologize.  I’ll see you later, OK?”

  


“Yeah sure – I’m going to a yoga class, you coming?”

  


“Of course.” Dean dead-panned. “I just gotta go put on my tights." 

  


“Funny.” Sam rolled his eyes.

  


Dean grinned. "No - you’re on your own for that. I’m gonna do some fishing.”

  


“OK – see you for dinner then.”

  


“Yeah. Sounds good.”

  


Dean, shuffled around and stalled until the few students that were talking with Castiel headed out.

  


“Uh – Castiel?”

  


Castiel turned and faced Dean, tilting his head once again giving Dean that narrow eyed look. 

“Yes, Dean?”

  


“I – uh – I wanted to apologize. I was kind of a dick.”

  


“Kind of?” Castiel quipped with an unimpressed, raised eyebrow.

  


Dean was taken by surprise. His charm and good looks usually meant that people forgave him almost anything.  He didn’t usually have to work very hard for it.

  


Dean smiled shyly. “Yeah – sorry. I can be like that – Sam says I need to be more open to new ideas.”

  


“That’s good advice.” Castiel stepped closer, his voice calm but firm.  “You know – I realize you think this is all ridiculous - but art therapy can be very helpful for people.  It's not just a recreational pastime or some weird, New Age fad. This can really help people get in touch with their innermost feelings and work through trauma.  There are people here trying to learn something and you were making light of it.  You were disrespecting them and me. How would you feel if someone came to your place of business and stood there making snide comments about your profession?”

  


Dean felt like crap. “You’re right! Absolutely. It was a crappy thing for me to do. I’m really sorry."

  


"You know - it wouldn't be the end of the world to open up, try new things, let go of whatever hang-ups you have about what you are  supposed  to do and just do what feels right and good. Try not to be so uncomfortable with things that are unfamiliar."

  


"Yeah - uh. That's good advice I guess.  My brother Sam is saying that to me all the time. He's usually referring to salad though."

  


Castiel barked out a laugh and gave a genuine smile that lit up his face and showed off a toothy grin.  Dean's belly did a surprising little flip-flop.

  


"Can I - ? Let me make it up to you.”

  


“How?”

  


“How? Uh – well, I don’t know – Can I take you to dinner?”

  


"I eat dinner in the Loj most nights when I don't cook in my cabin."

  


"No, I mean - can I take you somewhere? Into town maybe?" Dean smiled his never-fail, dazzling grin.

  


"You're very charming."

  


"Thanks."

  


"It wasn't a compliment."

  


"Oh - uh." Dean was at a loss for words.

  


Castiel looked away and started sorting brushes. "If you want to make it up to me, you can come help me in the garden tomorrow morning."

  


"The garden?"

  


"Seven AM. Unless you weren't sincere about making it up to me?"

  


"Uh - sure. Seven, huh? Man. You and the Army sure like early mornings."

  


"If you don't wish to get up that early - "

  


"No - no, I'll be there."

  


Castiel stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded curtly. “Alright. I'll see you in the morning."

  


“Yeah see you tomorrow.  Thanks again." Dean turned to leave and then turned back. "It was a good class. Interesting. I don’t know if I’ve purged my soul of demons or not but it was still pretty cool.”

  


“We all have demons Dean.” Castiel’s eyes suddenly took on a sad expression. “Some are easier to exorcise than others. Some will be with us forever.”

  


Dean nodded with a feeling that Castiel actually could see into him. “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Ok, well, I'll see you tomorrow.”

  
“Tomorrow.”


End file.
